


The Battle of Evermore

by ThreeMagpies



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Slow Burn Charlie Matheson/Bass Monroe, Some scary stuff, charloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27326221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeMagpies/pseuds/ThreeMagpies
Summary: A Revolution halloween fic:  Bass Monroe/Charlie Matheson, Charloe; Blackout, no comics AU set after S2 and the war with the patriots. Since the surge flashed like some crazy storm across the world there were places that people didn’t go to anymore, not if they were smart, not even the kids and crazy teens. Evermore hospital in Willoughby was one of those places. Bad things seemed to happen there, especially at Halloween and Charlie decides that enough is enough, she is going to find out what it is and stop it, even if she has to do it alone.
Relationships: Charlie Matheson/Bass Monroe
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note:  
> Hi there, and thanks so much for dropping by. I still love Bass and Charlie, I also love halloween, and this story wanted out. The title is from a song by Led Zeppelin.  
> Take care and stay safe, Magpie

With the afternoon sun hot on her back, and the stone hot on her front, Charlie leaned against the wall by the broken, ornate iron gates and felt in her pack for her precious binoculars, finding them by feel and lifting them to her eyes.

Through the glasses, rising behind a weedy but still gracefully curved crushed gravel driveway, Willoughby’s abandoned Evermore mental hospital seemed innocent enough. Modelled on the Governor’s mansion and originally built as a private residence with oil money that ran out in the great depression, the grand, white mansion was surrounded by wide lawns long gone to wild grasses and overgrown, tangled woods. It looked quiet, even peaceful, but she’d heard different, and the stories were bad enough that she’d decided someone had to do something. 

Her lips tightened. She’d turned out to be the someone. Of course. 

Miles and her mom were way too busy playing happy marriages to bother about ‘more weird crap’, Aaron and Priscilla ditto though they’d been more polite. And Monroe? She frowned. Monroe seemed to be happy spending his time kicking back doing nothing but drinking too much whiskey, breeding fancy horses and training local kids to use swords. He’d laughed at her when she’d asked him to back her up on a hunt for whatever the hell in this house was responsible for turning nice, ordinary people into homicidal maniacs.

Moron. 

She’d thought he’d come along for the ride, just for old times sake. They’d been partners during the war, kind of, fighting together, watching each others backs. They’d been a good team. But then once the fighting stopped things changed between them, got tense. He started avoiding her whenever he could, making sure he only came round when Miles was home and when he did come round or she met him in the street or a bar she didn’t know what to say either. 

It was like neither of them knew what was supposed to happen next. 

She knew what she wanted though, and with anyone else she’d be happy to be the one to start things, but with him it was different. Complicated.

Damn it. 

Frustration and disappointment narrowed her eyes and made it hard to concentrate. Monroe was a total jerk, but that didn’t mean he could sit on his ass when there were things to be done, battles to be fought. 

Like this one.

She sucked in a deep breath, shoved Monroe to the back of her mind and focused on the mission. First, she needed a way in.

The house was big and white and symmetrical with thick pillars along the front facade, the rest of the house stretching behind in a row of two storey blocks. The main, double door at the front was at the centre of a wide verandah with a flight of elegant steps leading up to it from the drive. Sometime since last halloween, the doors had been boarded up and a big sign in black paint saying ‘Keep out’ nailed across them. 

Charlie shrugged, doors were overrated, she could use a window, back door or the roof if she had to.

The lowering sun made the faded white walls of the big house glow. It didn’t look like horrible things had happened there. 

But they had. 

Since the surge flashed like some crazy storm across the world there were places that people didn’t go to anymore, not if they were smart, not even the kids and crazy teens. The old hospital in Willoughby was one of those places but usually no one talked about it, except at Halloween when the stories came around again. 

Like the one about Neil Brady and his young family who’d moved there on October 29th the first year after the surge hoping to bring the old place back to life. Instead, Neil had gone batshit crazy and killed his wife and four kids on Halloween, hanging their bodies on butcher hooks in the big cellar before turning himself in saying something in the house told him to do it. 

Charlie had met Neil when they first got to Willoughby after the Tower. He’d seemed like a nice guy, not a killer, but then you never knew.

The following year, late October, the Texas Rangers opted to use the hospital as a training centre for new recruits. The first group had been there for a bit less than a week when the fourteen recruits, their sergeant, the cook and housekeeper were found by their captain when he arrived for a surprise inspection at dawn on November first, their heads neatly arranged in the shape of a star on the lawns in front of the house. 

The bodies belonging to the heads had never been found. 

The year after that, last year, a developer from Austin came along and turned the place into a hotel. It took him and his team a few months to get it happening, but through August, September and most of October the place was party central for rich types from the capital, even while the war was going on. Then, at the Halloween ball, something happened. No one was really sure what, but the next morning when the milk delivery service turned up, bodies were everywhere and the flies were swarming and so bloated with blood it was like walking through red rain. The milkman said it looked like people had just started eating each other.

After that, the house was left alone and people in Willoughby tried to forget it was there. It was like the hospital disappeared into thin air for most of the year, coming back in late October bringing nightmares with it.

She sniffed. Not this time. Tonight was Halloween and she was going to find out what the hell was going on, and if she had to it alone, well she’d been there and done that before. To hell with Miles, and to hell with Monroe too. She kicked the wall, forgetting she had her moccasins on in case she had to climb, not her heavy boots and bit back a yell of anguish as her big toe hit the stones.

Ow. Crap.

Hopping a little, foot cradled against her other calf, she pulled herself together and focused on back on business, checking out the big sash windows that flanked the doors. 

Looked like the one on the far left was open just a crack, but that was all she needed. 

Ok then. 

She decided to walk down the drive, there was no reason to hide after all and the only real cover available would mean going right around the perimeter by the wall, and she’d still have to cut across the lawns to get to the house at the closest point. But as she got closer the sounds of her feet on the gravel seemed to get louder and louder, each step exploding into air that was suddenly hushed and still and she had to make herself keep walking. 

Maybe it was because she knew the stories about the house, but it felt as though the building was watching her, the big windows like eyes. She shook the feeling off but unclipped the knife on her belt and notched an arrow into her bow anyway.

After what seemed like forever, she reached the house and with nerves jangling and every sense alert, Charlie climbed the broad, shallow, steps onto the porch. The space was cool and full of shadows under the stone balcony with skeletal vines hanging from above, mostly dead, their fallen leaves crisp and crackling underfoot. She walked along the dusty flagstones to the end window, keeping it casual, trying to ignore the growing tension in her belly, the tightness in her throat, her knuckles white on her bow. 

When she got to it, there were old blood stains on the bottom of the wooden frame, a handprint, cracked but still clear, as if someone had leaned against it, their hand covered in blood. It was a stark reminder of what had happened last halloween and when she looked, there were more patches of blood along the wall towards the corner, smeared as though someone had been dragged along.

Charlie felt sick to her stomach but swallowed it down. This…thing…had to be stopped.

She turned back to the window. The sash was open a few inches at the bottom and she bent over to peer inside, making sure not to touch the bloody print as she pushed aside the remains of a heavy, musty lace curtain.

There was enough light for her to tell that the room was large, with high, ornate ceilings and elegant columns set around the walls, a few low tables and easy chairs set up in groups scattered over the chequerboard floor, glasses, cups and plates still in place and a few books and magazines lying open as if whoever had been reading them was coming back. 

There were no bodies though, they’d been removed after the Ball and it didn’t look like anything as terrible as a massacre had happened in there, if you forgot about the blood on the window. But looks could be deceiving, she knew that for sure. 

She shrugged and got up, no point wasting more daylight. Putting her bow down, she put both hands on the window frame and lifted. To her surprise, the window slid open with only the slightest complaint. 

Almost as if it wanted her to come in. 

Ok. She picked up her bow again, and used the tip to push the curtain aside. 

Time to get the party started

…………………….

Back up by the gate, a booted foot sent up puffs of gravel dust as Monroe took a step towards the house, watching her through his binoculars.

Behind him, his horse snickered softly.

‘Hey, don’t be so judgemental, Benny,’ Monroe glanced over his shoulder, ‘I don’t believe all the crap about this place, but I thought I’d better keep an eye on her just in case.’ His lips curved in a grin as he put the glasses to his eyes again, ‘although I gotta admit, it’s not exactly a hardship, I could watch her all day, in fact I’ve been wishing I could do a lot more than that for a long time now, just don’t know how to make it happen.’

Benny snorted and tossed his head.

The grin turned rueful. ’I know, I know. I’m crazy to even think about it. She’s way out of my league.’ He was quiet for a moment, intent on what he was watching. ‘Damn she’s got a great ass…and a genius for finding trouble too and with Miles out of the game I guess it's up to me to make sure she gets home in one piece.’ He kept watching as Charlie wriggled in through the window and disappeared, then turned back to the horse and hauled his pack out of the saddle bags. ‘I’d better get down there. If I’m not back in a couple hours, go home, ok?’

The big bay ignored him this time, more interested in picking at the lush patches of grass by the wall.

‘I guess I’ll take that as a yes.’ Monroe gave the sleek hindquarters a pat, shouldered his rifle and headed down the drive. 

……………………


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note:   
> Hi there, thanks for coming back and for some lovely comments. And yes, I’m still hanging on to Bass and Charlie come what may lol, I think they’ve become some kind of archetype OTP for me :) But hey, why not? This is two parts in one really, so its a bit longer but hope you like it. Take care and stay safe, Magpie

Crawling in through the window, Charlie swung her legs round and hit the ground with her bow ready, just in case. But it was quiet, still, silent. 

Then the smell hit her. Musty, mouldy, reeking with the tang of copper and old death, the smell was everywhere, the air heavy and thick with it. 

Her gorge rose and for a few moments she had to fight to keep her stomach where it was.

Lips tight shut and a hand across her nose, she made herself walk through the room and into the front lobby. The stench rose and fell like heavy fog, clinging to her clothes, her skin and her hair as she walked past empty chairs and tables with wine glasses stained red with the dregs of wine and coffee cups thick with pallid green and purple mould. 

The walls had obviously been off white once, with curved, ornate cornices picked out in gold and cream. Now almost everything was grey with shadows, dust and spider webs.

It was dreadful, like walking through a tomb, and as she made it through the arched doorway into the gloom of the lobby, a wave of sadness and grief crashed over her, irresistible, overwhelming. She didn’t know where it came from but it felt like she was drowning in loss and horror. Tears blurred her eyes and kept coming, even though she tried to blink them away as she looked around, panic building as the tears combined with the dark to make her blind. Was this what had happened to all those people?

She was reaching for the torch and flint she’d brought along for when it got dark but changed her mind.

She’d have to put down her bow to light it.

‘Charlie?’

She froze. What the hell? Sweeping an arm across her eyes although it didn’t help much, she turned around to face the elegant, sweeping staircase rising up to the next floor and beyond. 

There was a figure on the first floor landing. Tall, slim, blond. Young. A broad chest bisected by a line of bloody craters. 

She blinked and the figure was clearer. 

Too clear. ‘Danny?’

Her brother started down the stairs, coming towards her. ‘He’s coming, Charlie. Monroe followed you here.’ He pointed to his chest. ‘And he’s the one who did this to me. Remember?’

Yes. Of course she did.

……………….

Monroe looked at the window and frowned. There was blood on the frame, and more along the wall. Old blood. He checked the ground, there were traces of blood in the cracks between the flagstones too, a lot of it. The signs of a massacre unmistakeable to anyone who’d seen as much war as he had. 

He knew about what’d happened here, who didn’t? But it hadn’t been real until right now. What if Charlie was right and there was something in the stories? Something evil in this house? He’d seen weirder things, Staypuft for one.

And she’d walked right into it. Alone.

………………..

It was so good to see Danny again. So much had happened that she’d almost forgotten the way his blond hair caught the light, how blue his eyes were. How tall he’d grown. She hesitated, he looked well, but hadn’t there been something else, before? Something wrong?

‘You look good too, sis.’ Danny moved closer, ‘but we need to get ready, he’ll be here soon. Once we kill him we’ll be free.’ 

Charlie nodded, he was fine, she must have been mistaken. ‘Yes, we will.’ She looked around for something to use for cover. Monroe was smart. They’d need to be smarter. 

But something in the back of her mind kept trying to get her attention. Why did they have to kill Monroe? He wasn’t a threat any more, except maybe to her peace of mind. 

She frowned, held back. ‘Danny, wait, what’s happening, why are we here?’

He just pointed to the stairs and started towards them, urgent. ’We need to go, Charlie. Right now. Upstairs. Hurry, he’s coming.’

Yes, he was, she could hear steps in the other room, coming closer. She followed Danny but the steps were dark and sticky under her feet and for a moment she thought there was blood, thick pools of it, all over the stone. She faltered, staring at her feet.

‘Come on, Charlie.’ Danny sounded impatient now. ‘Hurry, we can take cover on the landing.’

She jerked, looked up at him then down again. ‘Ok, but…’ The steps were clean, no blood. 

Of course there wasn’t. 

She kept going.

………………………….

Bass Monroe slid over the window ledge and stood up inside the house, eyes searching the shadows for Charlie but there was no sign of her. The room smelled of blood and rot and breathing light to keep out the worst of the stench he crept forwards. Then he spotted her tracks in the dust, heading for the archway entry to the hall beyond. 

Ok. 

He started to call out, to let her know he was here but something made him stop. He was walking into the unknown and maybe keeping the element of surprise was better. Just in case.

He followed the tracks, keeping down, keeping quiet, the hair on the back of his neck rising to attention and every battle honed instinct he had snapping into high alert warning him of danger. Something was very, very wrong with this place, and the further he got into the house the more his hackles went up. 

The further he got the more familiar the house became too. It looked kind of like Independence Hall. 

He froze. 

It looked a hell of a lot like it, more every second. As he watched the walls flickered and changed, details like his ceiling high bookshelves, the familiar statues and paintings morphing into view like… well, like magic. ‘What the fuck?’ it came out as a whisper but the words seemed to echo, coming back to him as a hissing, mocking chuckle. 

Ok. This was like a scene from a horror movie. Good thing he’d seen enough of them to know the tricks.

At the archway he paused, listening, rifle raised although his hands were itching for his swords. 

Something else felt different. 

He looked down. Instead of his old jeans and leather jacket, he was wearing his uniform. His Monroe Republic Presidential uniform. The same one he’d been wearing when Miles and Charlie had arrived in Philly before the Tower thing and the crap had really hit the fan. The image wasn’t steady though, it fluttered in and out of focus, jeans to uniform and back, leather to cloth, cloth to leather… It made his eyes hurt.

But things kind of made sense now. 

Even though they’d made a kind of peace, or whatever the hell it was between them, in Philadelphia, Charlie had wanted to kill him. He’d been enemy number one. Top on her list. 

At least he knew what to expect.

From a little way back, he looked through the arch into the lobby where the original architecture shimmered and flickered with an overlay of Independence Hall, the double front doors and marble floor, high ceilings and gracious proportions, the sweep of stairs leading up, even the wallpaper on the walls trying to fool him into thinking that was where he was. 

But if he focused he was able to see through the illusion. So. It didn’t have total control over him. Maybe it was was focused on Charlie? Maybe the place had chosen her? Or maybe she’d just arrived first. Either way this seemed to be her show.

He had to get her away from here. Alive. Then he’d help her finish it so it couldn’t catch anyone else.

He glanced round the corner. There was still a bit of light coming in through the windows at the front of the house, and the glass at the top of the door but there also seemed to be a kind of glow coming from the walls themselves, a fungus glimmer that lined everything in tarnished silver. And under the illusion there was dried blood everywhere too, on the floor, splashed on the walls, the stair rail, showing clear through the layers of dust. The stone steps were awash with it. 

Monroe nodded, face grim. Her tracks led straight to the stairs and the best place for an ambush was the first landing. He moved forward just a bit, as though he was stepping through the doorway and looked left.

An arrow whizzed past his face, planting itself at an angle in the wall opposite, then another just missed his nose.

As he ducked back behind the door, he glanced up at the landing and saw the outline of her bow, a glimpse of her face.

……………………………

‘You missed.’ Danny leaned towards her, voice harsh. ‘Now he knows.’

Charlie put her bow down, ‘It’s ok, I’ll get him next ti…’ She blinked and pulled away, staring. 

Danny’s face didn’t look right, it was rippling, stretching, the bones realigning to make something wrong. something horrible, and it was reaching out towards her like some kind of nightmare thing…

Oh crap.

……………………….

Bass caught his breath. Ok. First landing it was. It was good to know he still had skills. 

And that she could miss.

But what next? He couldn’t leave her here but he didn’t want to die either. If he knew Charlie, she wouldn’t miss next time. There was only one thing to do. He put down his rifle, held his pack in front of his chest with one arm and stepped out, facing the landing, his free hand up in the air. ’Hey Charlie? It’s me. Bass. I’m sorry I didn’t come with you when you asked me, ok? But I’m here now.’

No answer. No arrows. Nothing. And the house was back to its original state, blood stains and all. It was darker too, harder to see anything up on the stairs or landing. He took another step, worried now. ‘Charlie? Come on, I know you’re up there. Listen, all the shit going on in this house? It’s not real. Don’t believe any of it. I’m here to help, ok?’ 

Silence.

Damn it.

Monroe blew a breath out and reached down to put his pack down on the floor, keeping his eyes front. ’Charlie, I’m coming up. Don’t shoot, alright? You haven’t wanted to kill me for months, remember?’ He took a step forward, then another. ‘And I saved your life too. More than once. Don’t forget that.’ 

Still nothing. 

Really worried now, that he was too late, that he’d find her hurt or worse, he slung his pack over his shoulder and moved fast, to hell with the consequences.

………………………..

Charlie was in the dark, it was comfortable, warm, soft. Then through the haze she heard someone call her name. It sounded like Monroe.

She remembered having a weird dream about him and Philadelphia… and Danny? 

Danny. He’d turned into some kind of monster…

Oh hell. Her eyes flew open. She wasn’t in her own bed, she was lying on some kind of carpet, hard, smelly carpet. Which meant that she was still in the creepy house.

The Danny thing, where was it? 

Frantic, she looked from side to side, trying to see through the gloom, trying to see where it was, if it was still there. Then she took a deep breath in to scream but wished she hadn’t because something nearby smelled bad, really, really bad and it made her want to throw up instead.

She screamed anyway.

‘Charlie? Shit. Hold on, I’m coming.’ 

It was him. Monroe. Relief poured like good whiskey through her veins.

There was the sound of hurried boots on the steps, someone slipping and bumping into things and cursing, the sound of a sword snicking out of its scabbard.

She tried to get up but her arm slid on something and she fell back down. ’Monroe?’ 

Then he was there in front of her, crouched on the floor looking big, solid, real. Better than real. ‘Charlie, are you ok?’ He sounded a bit out of breath but totally human.

But so had Danny.

She reached out a finger and poked his thigh, the closest bit of him. It felt solid, the muscle hard, warm, real. Her heart started up again but it still felt like it was going to jump out of her throat. ‘Yeah. I’m ok.’ She gazed at him. ’You came.’ 

He nodded, not looking at her, busy lighting a torch from his pack. ’Yeah. Listen. I’m sorry I laughed at you, Charlie.’ He looked at her this time, eyes serious. ‘Next time I won’t. I promise.’

She believed him. ‘The thing in the house? It tried to make me believe I saw…’ She looked away, ‘I thought I saw Danny.’

Monroe shrugged, ‘Guessed it was something like that. I saw Philadelphia, for a little bit anyway.’ He held the torch up. The clean, bright flame was very welcome but it did show up the mounds of crap on the floor around them. ‘Looks like someone left the mops and towels from the clean up last year.’ He stood up, poked the pile of stuff with the toe of his boot, winced and pulled back, fanning his face. ’Whoa, that stuff’s rank.’

‘It’s disgusting. Let’s get out of here. Before it comes back.’ She got to her feet, finding her bow, quiver and pack on the floor next to her and slinging them over her shoulder. There were two bolts missing and then she remembered something from the dream. ‘Hey, did I shoot you?’

He grinned at her, an eyebrow quirked. ‘Twice. You missed both times.’ 

She grinned back. ‘Must be out of practice.’ Taking her own torch out of her pack she lit it from his and looked up at him. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’

He grinned, ‘Hell yeah.’

The mounds of junk caught quickly, so did the paintings, drapes and furniture and by the time they reached the doors and crashed them open, the interior was well alight.

Once outside, they ran around the outside of the house, lit kindling, broke windows and tossed burning branches inside and with the wind that had picked up from the west, it wasn’t long before the whole building was blazing like a furnace, flames shooting high in swirling gusts into the sky, the crackle of fire and hiss and crash of exploding glass and collapsing walls a cacophony of sound.

Back at the gate, a panting Monroe bent over and leaned on his knees. ’That.. should do it. You gotta burn the bones to get rid of the ghost, Charlie… It’s a thing.’

She was breathing hard too. ‘Since when?’

‘Since…’ he laughed up at her, ‘doesn’t matter. You want to go get a drink?’

She licked her lips, ‘are you asking me out?’

‘Been wanting to do that for a long time, figured now’s as good a time as any.’ He stood up straight, his eyes on her, intense, searching.

Walking up to him she stroked a hand up his chest to his face, letting her fingers play with the curls of his scruff. ‘Well, I think now’s a good time too.’ 

‘Great minds think alike…’ His arms went around her waist, his big hands stroking her back, her hair, his lips dipping to hers, exploring in light, flirting touches, his body tall and strong against hers.

Charlie pressed closer, winding her arms around his neck and deepening the kiss, excitement and the night wind on her back making her head spin and her belly electric. ‘Your place or mine?’ she murmured against his lips. 

………………………..

Behind them the house burned like a torch, flames reaching high into the sky and smoke rising in huge, dark clouds tinged with eerie flickering green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi and thanks for reading, hope you liked it. I wanted Bass to be all heroic and save her one more time lol! Hope to see you again sometime, cheers, Magpie

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hi, hope you're enjoying it so far. I wanted to have the whole story up for Halloween, but just didn’t have time. The second (and I think final) part will be up as soon as I can edit it into submission. Cheers, Magpie xx


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